In the Clutches of the Hawk
by Skywolf24
Summary: After saving Gotham from the League of Shadow's weapon, Bruce Wayne finds himself in unfamiliar territory of a different world. He meets a young warrior of corrupted empire and finds himself in a battle where he never thought he would end fighting: the heart of Shayera Hol.
1. Chapter 1

**In the Clutches of the Hawk**

**All characters belong to DC Comics and Warner Bros**

**I own nothing.**

* * *

He became a sweaty hot mess in the obscure folds of darkness. His broad muscles gleamed and body reeked with exhaustion while he fought against the tantalizing pain scourging through his heated veins. Everything was unfamiliar to the cold logic flowing inside the dark crevices of his disciplined mind, but he knew that he wasn't on earth-he knew that there had been a disruption of time that him sent him into a drift after the League of Shadow's firebomb exploded over the icy waters of Gotham Bay.

He bared his teeth, trying to break the chains that shackled him against a wall, he winced slight, feeling the tension engulf over his bruised and tarnished muscles as a numbness rippled inside of his body. He snapped his eyes open, allowing dingy crescents of light to become entrapped in the hooded chasms of molten hazel-green as wetness streaked down his broad and well-defined jaw. He slid his tongue over the corner of his mouth, gathering the taste of copper as he felt a line of blood slope down his chin and he allowed the sourness of churning acid of his unsettling stomach to rise slowly up the raw walls of his scorched throat. His body surged with defiance and fierce determination but failed to focus on his escape as he allowed the slight fever to weaken his thoughts and methods of escaping the unknown confinement.

"Come on, Bruce," he chided in a hoarse whisper, feeling the controlled fury brim to the surface, he pulled his arms from the chain, straining the muscles as he clenched his jaw and gritted -the links of the chains buried deep into the skin of his forearms. He hissed against his clamp teeth and tightened up his face as he struggled to break free out of the restraints. He parted his chapped lips, growling and seething out his aggression. "Come on..." He snarled his lips into a firm scowl, the bellowing noise of unbreakable will power rumbled against his throbbing, graven chest and his eyes became orbs of fire in the darkness. He squeezed a hand into a fist and felt the blood pulse into his knuckles.

"You can try with of your strength, human. But our chains are unbreakable."

Bruce reared his head up, furrowing his eyebrows and allowed his firm, glistening hazel eyes to drift at the cell door. His bared his teeth at the looming figure, glowering at her with a savage look. His muscles coiled in anticipation while he studied the woman standing stoically in front of the cell bars. She was medium build, her arms toned with an amber glow to highlight over her flawless skin; scarlet-copper locks cascaded over her plated shoulders and reached her center of her back.

Behind the ebony slate hawk mask, menacing, sharp emerald green eyes mirrored his gaze. Half of her slender frame was covered with a golden armor; a maroon emblem of a hawk was engraved in black sat at the center of her breastplate emphasizing her warrior semblance. The most striking feature of her curvy frame was the silver feathered wings that jutted out from the smooth planes of her back. She looked unearthly and angelic as he kept his intense, cold glare of shadowy hazel-green embers locked on her masked face.

"Why did you invade the strong hold of the Thanagarian army?" she asked, gripping her fingers tightly over the handle of her mace. She stepped closer, gritting her teeth and rattling the bars with her weapon. «What information do you withhold in that human mind of yours?"

Bruce fastened his lips into a firm line, he remained deathly silent and glared darkly up at her, the young and unmoving soldier clenched her expose the jaw tightly, and parting her beautifully shaped lips and exhaled out an irritable sigh of annoyance.

She cracked her knuckles and removed a dagger from a sheath attached to her hip, latched her darkened orbs on him and threw the knife on inch from his head, purposely making the tip of the blade stick into a groove on the stone wall, Bruce never flinched and he continued to glower at her with ravenous and steady hazel eyes.

"I find your resilience exceptional for human." She affirmed with an edge in a fierce voice, withdrawing a step back from the. «It will not save you from Thanagarian justice. You are seen as a threat to us and will face the trails according the elders who will decide your sentence for the crimes you've committed." She clasped her lips into a rigid line, keeping her green eyes focused on him. "What is the name of criminal who I am speaking with?»

"Why do you need to know my name?" Bruce asked his voice cracked, hoarse and bespoke with dryness. He curved the sharp edge of his thin-straight lips into a faint, defiant smirk. «What importance does it have to change my sentence?"

She lowered her head slightly down, "My commander as ordered me to find out your identity." She digressed in a low voice, keeping her luminous green orbs fixated on her gleaming weapon; she mashed her teeth into her bottom lip, before drawing out a harsh breath. "It is not a request, human, but a method to regain your existence in the eyes of the elders. You will learn to follow are orders if you desire to survive here."

"Thomas Malone," he answered with a hint of reluctance in his savory baritone. His glinting hazel eyes drifted around the cell, searching for a long moment while he inhaled the unfamiliar fragrance wavering in the air. He blinked, and refocused his steady gaze on her as the unearthly scent cloaked over her rigid frame, lulling his senses fully awakened from the foggy daze masking over his eyes. He felt the distinct corners of his mouth slack up into a grimace while he held her stare. "I told you my name and now it's your turn?"

"Why do you need to know my name?" she questioned, keeping herself distant from his curiosity. "Do you think it will give you assurance to trust me?"

"No, it won't." he echoed back in a nonchalant tone, his voice laced with obscurity and strained from exhaustion. He clenched his well-defined jaw tight, making the chiseled lines and knife-edge cheekbones of his angular face gleam in the flickers of torchlight. His eyes snapped forward as he met the green that glared underneath the darkness of the mask. "I do not trust anyone."

She pursed her lips and removed her hand from the mace, her green eyes scanned quickly over the dingy obscure around her, and then she advanced an inch forward. She parted her lips slowly and released a hesitant breath. "My name is Shayera Hol." she answered with stern reliance in her firm voice. "Lieutenant Shayera Hol."

Bruce nodded sharply as he felt the weight of the bronze shackles dragging his wrists down against the ground; he winced and grunted, "How long are they planning to keep me like this, Shayera?"

"I cannot give you that you want, Thomas." She replied, stepping back from the cell door. "I am not the one that brought in here." She narrowed her eyes and clamped her jaw as the thumping of heavy footsteps echoed in her ears. She whipped her head around fiercely and stared intensely at two armored guards holding torches as her commander paced closer to the prison corridors. "Whatever you do, Thomas," she whispered scarcely, "Speaks when he asks and answer all of his questions. Follow these orders and you will live without his blade lodged in your chest."

"Thanks for the warning, Shayera Hol." Bruce nodded lightly, smoothing his plush and slip lips into a light smile.

Shayera nodded in return and walked down the corridor in systematic strides until she became momentarily frozen by the onslaught of dread creeping over her bones, she breathed out a silent breath and met the icy grayish blue eyes of Hro Talak, Commander of the Thanagarian forces. She kept herself heavily guarded as he approached her with his armored gloved talons shimmering over his large hands; he gripped her shoulders with a firm squeeze, making the muscles coil involuntarily against his touch.

"What is the reason why you have been communicating with the prisoner, Shayera?" he asked, with gruffness in his rich voice. "The human is a danger to our empire. He is a threat to us."

Shayera tried managing to break free from his powerful grip, "The human captive has shown no signs of hostility, Commander." she countered back at him, keeping her concealed green eyes firmly locked on his malice filled stare. "I sense that he is not a threat to us. He carries no weapons. He might be a good asset to use when we focus our missions on his home world."

He loosened his grip from her arm and moved his hand up to her neck, caressing his talons over her pulsing jugular. "Engaging any contact with the enemy is dangerous. You have been conditioned through your training to understand those dangers, Lieutenant."

'Thomas is not a danger. He is not like a Gordanian." She shot back, withdrawing a step back, and positioned her body into a regal and unbreakable stance. "If that is what you think, Hro?"

"What I think, Shayera," he growled, baring his teeth. "Is that you have let your emotions consume the logic that has been planted inside of you." His ominous blue eyes burrowed deep into her skull, he pointed his ax directly at her. "This human is still an outsider from our world and yes, he may not reek of Gordanian scum, but he is still a threat to the Thanagarian Empire. Do you understand?"

Shayera nodded faintly, blanching from his displeased tone, "What if you are wrong, Hro?"

He stepped forward, glowering at her with his icy blue eyes, "I am never wrong." he snarled at her with defiance while he gave her a hard look before he continued down the darkened corridor.

She twisted her full, rose shaded lips into a little coy smirk, whispering under her breath, "We'll see, Commander."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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The fading sky became an explosion of the colors, entwining over the pink sapphire face of the Noracia moon. Distant starlight was entrapped in the folds of crimson and amber haze that spread across the iron arch ways of the city. Through the fog, Shayera Hol saw the other worlds beyond the barriers of her home.

Every beautiful and intense color of rose and violet she captured in the depth of her emerald-grayish eyes was an essence of a cosmic power the quadrants imprisoned with shadows of nothingness, clusters of swirling nests of stardust-oceans of emptiness with waves of fire, and misty voids which was written on the stone tablets that named the sanctuaries that collected the souls of her ancestors.

Sighing, the young Lieutenant kept her sharp eyes locked on gleaming metal goblet clutched in her firm grasp. Her lips were fastened into a vacant frown, and scarlet locks draped over her bare shoulder, covering the tiny sliver crescent scars etched on her hard muscle. She lifted the goblet to her pale rose shaded lips, taking a steady gulp of the sweetened nectar, her sharp features disarmed from her hardened warrior exterior, and ebony hawk mask lay on the stone ledge. She tried to ignore the stirrings in her body; she had to focus on her training and condition herself even further with combat sparring matches, flight maneuvers, and hunting tactics.

Probing her fingers over the rough surface of the stone, she tried to ease her restless mind-tried to cloak the prisoner Thomas Malone into the dark recesses of memory. He had become a lethal and intriguing distraction. She fought to bury her emotions, and regain her control with discipline and order.

_Enough_, Shayera thought in discipline as she slammed the goblet down hard against the stone , and she acutely listened to the sound of footsteps behind her rigid frame. Her muscles coiled and green eyes became feral; she pivoted her boots, and pulled out her dagger with one swift motion of her hand. She raised the weapon above her shoulder. fingers curled tightly as she shot a dangerous glare at the shadow.

"Ease your weapon down, Shayera. I may be old but I attend to live for a few more periods of time." came a soothing and older voice from the shadows of the pillars. Shayera lowered her dagger, and stiffened her lips, and latched her harden glare on the elder , dressed elegantly in embroidered amber gown adorned with the red symbol of a hawk, her wings were withered and gray with age. She observed her surrogate daughter with a pair of tender gray eyes and said softly. "You've always been a tough child to raise in world where war threatens to break us. You are a good and efficient warrior, but you also forgotten that beyond the mask and armor you are still a young maiden and deserve to have freedom away from the battles."

Shayera's head lowered, her jaw tight, she replied,"Have you come to lecture me again, Orena?"

"Lecturing you never works, since you're too stubborn to listen to old elder like me, Shayera." Orena whispered, inching closer. Her tarnished silver hair twirled in the stale heated breeze. She placed her frail hand on Shayera's shoulder, feeling the muscles tense in its wake. "You know I never wanted this life for you, Shayera, but you so determined to become a soldier just like your father that I couldn't bear with myself to make you a captive of your desires. I allowed you to join the forces and you have done well, completed many missions and saved lives." She narrowed her eyes down, and lightly shook her head. "I sense that there is a danger lurking inside of you-something that once it becomes unleashed it will be hard for you to stop."

"You're afraid that I will become just weapon forged by hate?" Shayera questioned harshly. folding her arms over the golden breast plate. "I know my limits and weakness, Orena. I was trained to become soldier for a purpose of protecting our world from outsiders. I will carry out that mission until every ounce of breath escapes my body."

"When I took you in after your father died in action...I had every desire of protecting for his fate." Orena shot back to her, firmly. "I raised you as my own daughter and loved you as equal as my son." She closed her eyes tightly for a long moment, pressing a fist into the center of her chest. "A maiden of Thangar is who you are supposed to be, Shayera. Not a soldier that craves of battle -the elders have been searching a husband for you. since your father's sacrifice saved the general's son."

Shayera shook her head fiercely and solely continued to stare at the elder underneath strands of red. They stood in silence, allowing the tension to fester in their veins, until she turned and leaned her body against the ledge. «I do not desire to have a husband or to become promised with someone." she growled out, her voice stern and rough. Her eyes became embers of green fire. "I will not be used as some prize for an elder's son. It's really throwing your freedom away and becoming a slave without the shackles."

Orena frowned, her feathered wings fluttered as she expressed her frustration. "Once the elders have chosen you husband, Shayera, you will still be a part of the forces. That will not change."

Shayera's eyebrows furrowed deeper and a sullen look overtook her ivory features. "You want me to complete this mission for you, Orena." she asked, her eyes masked with disdain. "You want me to give up my freedom has a maiden and serve a husband that wasn't chosen by my heart, but by the elders words and keep my mouth shut..." she allowed her thoughts to drift back to the human captive imprisoned in the dingy cell. She shook her head, avoiding her surrogates' mother's placating stare. "Our world is becoming a savage place again-almost like Icthultu has come back to rule over us again with his vile demands of sacrifice for order."

"How dare you say that creature's foul name, Shayera." Orena snarled coldly, clenching her jaw. "That name is poison to us. The Old Ones are dead. They will not come back to our world." She wrenched her eyes away, and sealed her lips before exhaling out a ragged breath. "The new threat that has invaded our barriers is that human scum you spoke with in the dungeons."

"The human scum in which you speak of, Orena, he has a name." Shayera growled back in defensive tone, curving her lips into a disagreeing scowl. "Thomas Malone is not dangerous to our empire. He is like an Old One who could threaten to devour our people or Gordanian butchered." She glared at Orena with insurable, unyielding green eyes and kept her emotionless unreadable. "I sense he can be trusted and that he doesn't deserve the punishment the elders will condemn him to endure."

Orena regarded her with irritated and angry eyes. Her tone laden with disgust. "The human will punished. His fate is sealed, Shayera? Why do you care about this outsider?" she asked with a cryptic voice.

Shayera flashed her eyes furious at her. "We are not hostile, Orena," she seethed. "We defenders of peace and justice not harvesters of death. The human is not a danger but a victim of unfortunate situation. I trust my instincts and, they tell me that his presence on our world was indeed an accident. He had no intention of invading our barriers."

"You are letting your emotions guide your actions, Shayera." Orena argued, turning away from her. "Any outside that enters our world is a threat to this empire. You know that better than rest of us?"

Shayera's faced hardened into a fierce scowl. "I refuse to allow the human to serve punishment." She spoke with a strong voice, keeping her poise regal and stern as she locked her green eyes with the elder's gray orbs. "We need to find out the truth from him before making the decision. He deserves to speak and defend himself."

Orena shook her head, "Don't lose yourself to this illusion the scum is playing on you, Shayera."

"Why suddenly so hardened, Orena, I thought I was the one that carried that exterior." Shayera echoed back, twisting the corners of her full lips into a coy smirk. She moved away from the elder, her wings rubbed against the pillar as she advanced to the archway door.

"Don't become dense with this human." Orena called out, her voice laced with spire and her eyes darkened with malice. "He might become your weakness."

Shayera turned and glared back at her, feeling her blood boil in her veins, and whispered with a faint breath. "Or my strength."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

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The droning sounds of torture echoed through the cell walls. Bruce sat in a corner, knees tucked close to his smooth, graven chest, and his severe hazel-green eyes captured the shafts of torchlight caressed over his unblemished flesh. so dense it felt solid over his exposed pectorals. His fingers probed over the stone floor, and he lowered his dismal gaze at his Kevlar reinforced boots. Sweat rolled over the bridge of his sloped-narrow nose, and he registered the foreign push against his skull; and the overwhelming trepidation batting against the barriers of his guarded mind shields. Wary, he lifted his broad arms up, and listened to the chains rattle against his restrained strength. Growling under his breath, he calculated a method of escape, the prison guards who patrolled the corridors only walked by his cell door every twenty minutes, giving him a time break to assess their weak points, and used his patience to proceed the right moment of attack once their weaknesses became close to his vantage.

The barred doors slid open, dragging tersely over the ground, Bruce involuntary snapped his hazel eyes up, and stared at the towering presence of the Thanagarian Commander Hro Talak. "I see you're taking your accommodations well, human. If it was up to me, you would have been sentence to rot in the sky pit." Bruce shot him an intense, unyielding glare. "That's where we throw the worthless scum of our prisoners and allow the terror hawks to scrape the flesh off their bones until nothing remains of their pitiful existence." he said, his lips fastened into a straight line. He circled in front of Bruce, his steps thumping with unpredictable and reserved hostile movements. "The reason why you're spared from our tortured chambers is because you display to threat, you carry to weapons, except your defiance. Why did you invade our barriers, human?"

'It was unintentional." Bruce answered his voice rough and cracked. "I have no answers to give to you, because I only remember an explosion in Gotham Bay. Everything else is blur in my mind." Hro stepped closer, and glared down at Bruce with his cold, calculating pale blue eyes under the darkness of his hawk mask. He stiffened his exposed jaw, and removed his ax from a hostler strapped to his waist. Bruce stared back, undaunted, and sealed his thin-straighten lips into a faint scowl.

"Your answers are pitiful, human." Hro shot back, his words dripping with malice and disgust. He withdrew a step back, and turned his back to Bruce. "The Ruling Council has made their decision; you will remain in this cell until you are brought to trial for your intrusion." He walked out of the door, and stoic guard the guarded slammed it shut. "If you're wondering about Shayera Hol, she has been ordered to keep her distance from you. I do not want you to corrupt my best soldier."

Bruce felt the blood in his veins heat with contempt. "How long do I have?" he whispered, his voice raspy.

Hearing his captives weakening voice, Hro curved his lips into sadistic sneer; he turned around, and locked his piercing eyes with Bruce's dark, ominous hazel chasms.

"Three days in your human time frame." he answered, and then moved away in fervent steps. "I have given the guards orders to feed you enough to conserve your strength. Refuse my generosity, human, and I will see what color of blood you have flowing in your veins." he countered out a warning, and vanished into the thick shadows.

* * *

Releasing a frustrated growl, Shayera pummeled her aggression into red tinge sack hanging by chains before her, furiously throwing her light balled and tight fists at the dangling sac, making it twirl with frenetically and rattle the chains with every punch she blasted. She grunted out her restrained rage with each audible smack she threw, her gritted teeth barred, and her knuckles became red with rawness. She had become a victim of nightmares, fragments of her tortured past, and a captive of images weaved into her subconscious. She spent many nights, training and pushing her body to the limit to erase the havoc surging her mind. Everything meshed together; her father's death was the prime, invasive fragment that never seemed to vanish entirely. She never allowed the grief to avail within her.

* * *

_Father!_

_Shayera cried, feeling breath explode in her lungs. She stood beside the golden casket, her tiny fingers rubbed over the cracks of his shield, painted with the colors of red and black. The colors of war. She allowed her palms to rest against the symbol of a hawk etched in the metal, and probed her shaky hand over the surface of engraved wings. When she looked up at the statue of the great Thanagarian captain, tears streamed over her pale cheeks, and heart ceased to beat in those long moments of feeling her father's existence slip away from her grasp. She was utterly alone, and the only reminded of her father was a necklace he gave to her before he was called to battle._

_"Shayera," Orena's voice soothed behind her. Shayera refused to turn around, she wanted to stay at her father's side. "He's not here anymore, child."_

_"He made a promise that he'd come back to me," Shayera choked out a sob, and screwed her eyelids tight. "He said that he would give up his shield-no more battles. Just him and me." She tried to muster up her strength, and fought against the tears has a dull ache erupted in her chest. "He died for nothing." she growled out, coldness ghosted over her quivering lips._

_Orena shook her head; she gazed at the young Thanagarian with dismal grayish eyes. "Captain Dorgan Hol, did not die for nothing. He saved lives, Shayera. You must love him for that, and respect the choices that he made." Shayera nodded silently, and wiped the tears out of her blurry green eyes. "Then stop believing in the false truth your heart pounds through you, child. Learn from your father, and carry out his mission. Do those things and you will know that he's with you until the end."_

* * *

Now, she stood in the center of the sparring room, thumping out her anger vigorously, and allowed her ivory skin to become glazed with beads of anguished sweat. She felt the blood churned in her scorched veins, and drenched, ruffled scarlet locks struck onto her forehead as lines of exhaustion dripped over her rippling muscular shoulder blades, and over her exposed graven abdomen. She wore only a dark red garment that secured her breasts, and black leggings which fitted snug under her curves. She was a hot, untamed and sweaty mess.

Shayera growled viciously as she packed a punch after an enraged punch into the sack, ramming her overpowered knuckles, now aching and bruising colorfully at the impact of the bone shattering speed her anger produced. She wanted to feel the skin to tear apart, bleed, and to feel the bones break. Pain was her medicine to ease the whirling tension of grief. Feeling her bones grow numb, kept her at a balance of order and discipline-that was her way of living. It was her method of keeping herself controlled when listening to debriefing of missions, training young soldiers for their military forces, and issuing out orders as the second in command under the shadow of Commander Hro Talak.

Her hands burned like hot iron as did her skin, every inch of her body was coated in feverish sweat, and she swiped her brow with the back of her hand. Her lips parted, as she drew out ragged patterns of breath, and felt the air scrape against her lungs. Her livid and determined green eyes narrowed, and focused on the flickers of torch light in front of her.

"I thought I might find here," a firm, spiteful, and familiar feminine voice lulled Shayera to involuntary turn around. She glared intently at the slender female Thanagarian leaned against the door frame. Her muscles coiled with tension and raked her infuriated gaze over other hawk maiden, Paran Dul, staring at the missing features on the gray wings enclosed over her shoulders. She was older than Shayera, taller with rippling muscles, and scarred skin. She wore her dark brown hair short with a few bangs shrouding over her feral, intense and light blue eyes.

"Paran," Shayera spoke, her voice guarded from emotion. "What are you doing here? Did Hro send you?" she questioned, locking her arms over her chest.

"Have you lost your edge, Shayera Hol?" Paran Dul taunted, her words dripped like venom. She circled around the scarlet haired Thanagarian with calculated steps, dissecting any weakness. "The human poses as threat to the empire, and yet here you are thinking about him?" Shayera regarded her with a cold glare. "You can't mask your emotions from me; I know how to read soldiers thoughts. Don't forget our minds are linked. We feel everything, and yet we show no emotion because we're programmed to become weapons when in battle."

Shayera kept herself in stoic, and refused to allow her emotions to betray her battle-iron exterior. She glared at Paran with indigence gleaming in her sharp green eyes, and tried to sear through the cold, stony demeanor of the Thanagarian soldier, but her expressions remained unreadable. Sighing out a heated breath, and clenching her jaw tight, she finally spoke. "Why have you come here, Paran?" she questioned, keeping herself distant.

Paran grinned a little. "The commander has asked me to keep a close watch on you, Shayera. He thinks it's necessary for you to have observant eyes while this manner of threat still remains in division of choice between the Ruling Council." she coldly gave her reply, and folded her arms over the black garment covering her ample breasts. "Hro wants you to focus on the mission. Nothing else."

Irked by the other hawk maiden's spite tone, Shayera stiffened her full lips into a sour expression. "I know my place, Paran. I'm the one that is above you; remember that next time before you try to cross my authority again." She grounded out, flustered her wings, and moved away from the cold glare of the other hawk maiden. "

"Remember Shayera Hol, you're the one who Hro cherishes. If you were to cross him and show emotions to this outside..."

"I will never disobey my commander's orders, Paran." Shayera growled, clenching her throbbing hand into a fist. "The human is a prisoner of the empire. My orders are to ensure the safety of our home world. That has always been my first and foremost mission; I will not turn my back on our people."

Paran nodded, hiding her motives from Shayera's eyes, the young lieutenant saw right through her mask. "I advise you to be more careful with your words, Shayera. For they may come back and stab you in the back."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Through the haze of crimson, veiling over her grayish-emerald eyes Shayera felt frustration simmer in her veins. The distant shadow of the high palace that housed the Ruling Council creep over her ivory skin. She needed an escape from the torrent conflicts, and the mission debriefing hall, and mostly her Commander.

Sighing under her breath, she pushed her away through the entrance doors of a rundown owned by an ex-space pirate family, and fervently thumped her boots on the grimy floor, marching with her exposed shoulders square and green eyes locked on two hawk men sitting causally at the bar, drinking pints of nectar bloom, a potent drink with a touch of slime from a Polaris moon slug.

Shaking her head, Shayera advanced closer, keeping her body in a regal stance as she listened to the conversion of the two young soldiers, Skyren and Soren. She had trained them, tested their limits and taught them her methods of survival while engaged in battle. Captain Soren Raga, a tall, muscular hawk man with golden wings that matched the roots of his short, ruffled hair. He had a commanding face, cut-stone features, strong jaw and deep blue eyes, turquoise crystal. He wore gold and blue armor, and carried an Nth metal shield. He was the prime leader of an intergalactic rescue operative force of Thanagar called: the Blue Hawks.

The other hawk man sitting beside him, downing another frothing pint was Sergeant Skyren Dovos, a medium height, slender soldier with silver wings. He wore his wavy brown hair slicked back off his forehead. He had a youthful face, chiseled cheekbones, heavy jaw line, and pale, gentle blue eyes. His striking feature that made hawk maidens swoon their wings at his angelic presence was his full, arched, pinkish lips that always curved into a warm, inviting smirk. He wore gold and light blue armor with engravings a hawk on each shoulder plate. He was the sharp archer, and trained marksmen of the force, always had a steady hand, sharp vision and fearless courage. He was also Soren's best friend, wing man and hawk brother.

They spent most of their time, traveling abound the Polaris galaxy, saving hostages from space pirates, and protecting the Gateway of their home world. Now, both Thanagarian soldiers were drowning themselves with a hard drink and easing pain of their mending battle wounds.

Soren placed his mug down, "So are you ready for another round?" he asked, keeping his firm blue eyes leveled with his friend's hazy stare.

"How much did I have to drink?" Skyren grumbled, slurring his word. He was starting to feel the effects of the nectar, but the fogginess in his mind didn't avail.

Soren scanned his eyes briefly over the collections of mugs in front of him. "One too many, I guess. You do know that we have a mission debriefing..."

Skyren saddled him with a hard glare "Why are you telling me this now, Raga?" There was edge creeping from the depths of his throat. He clenched his jaw, and grumbled under his heated breath.

Shrugging his broad shoulders, Soren lightly smirked. «It doesn't matter. I know the details. We have to fly out to a fleet warship, and bring the soldiers back the sick bay back to Thanagar. A simple mission."

"Nothing is simple with you, Raga."

Soren sighed slowly as he took another sip of nectar. He dropped his half-filled goblet down. "I sense that war is coming, Sky. Everything has changed since the human invaded our borders. I do not know if this prisoner is threat to our freedom or a trustworthy alliance. We need to keep our eyes wide open, and wait for our commands."

The corner of Skyren's mouth twitched up into a smirk. He glanced over his shoulder, and stared intently at Shayera advancing closer to the bar in her regal strides. "I don't think we'll have to wait too long..." He said, cocking his eyebrows up, and dismount off the stool, as he gave the young red haired lieutenant a small solute with one of his heart-stopping smiles. Shayera rolled her eyes, and leaned her lithe frame against the bar. She snatched Soren's goblet, observing the golden haired hawk man blue eyes flicker with a surprised gleam. "We were just having a conversation about the new prisoner you apprehended..."

"Our boundaries were compromised by the outsider. The human tried to seize our defenses as a result for his intrusion there will plenty on his life by the decision of the Ruling Council." She narrowed her eyes, and stifled her lips into a grim frown. "I sense there is insurrection with this human. He will not challenge our leaders and set a spark for political warfare. I believe the human wants to return back to his home world without the necessary actions of violence or a revolt to our allegiance, my friends."

Soren pressed his lips tight line, "We have received orders to stay clear from the human." he mutely affirmed, keeping his distance from her. "What will his sentence?" he asked, his voice grew fierce.

"The answer is inconclusive." Shayera shot back, not surprised he was using a stern tone with her. She lifted up a goblet of nectar, delicately rubbing the rim over her full lips. She placed the drink down, and settled her eyes on him. "For too long we have allowed our iron harden exteriors to consume our judgments towards outside worlds. I sense that is nothing hostile with this human. He arrived here unarmed."

Soren fixed his crystal blue eyes on her, and huffed out a breath. "We can't trust our feelings, Shay. Sometimes those we consider nonthreatening turn out to become our greatest enemies." He rose off the stool, and she felt his heat radiating off of his muscular form. She twisted around, ignoring the empathetic gleam in his steady gaze. She hated when she felt his powerful blue eyes sear through her layers. His large hand gently rubbed over her shoulder. "I'm saying this because you're my friend." he said softly. He didn't even bother masking his unsettling tone. He glanced at Skyren out of the corner of his eye moving to the table with his confident strides and engaging in a light conversation with a Polaris merchant. Sighing out a despondent breath, he struggled to say the words engraved on his heart. "I do not wish to see your freedom become compromised by this outsider, Shayera. You have fought many battles and sacrificed...That is not the fate you deserve."

She cursed under her breath from him being so perceptive of her guarded emotions. He always conceived a way to unlock the truth out of her. "I do not believe in fate." she smoothly answered. She swallowed down the swelling lump of dread clogging in her throat, and averted her eyes from him. "I need you to stop worrying about my life, Soren. I know the risks, and how to handle them as a soldier."

He frowned at her, his soft, fathomless stare burning against the muted torchlight. His long dark lashes lowered against his chiseled face as he sighed out a dismal breath. His fingers lightly caressed over her right wing, and his lips curved into a straight line. "You're not a soldier, Shay." he avowed in a gentle whisper. «When I look at you I see a maiden of strength, not a weapon that obeys commands."

"Why is everyone around here concern about my life?" She echoed back to him. She didn't have the patience to conceal her ire. "I am a Thanagarian warrior, and I refuse to be treated no less than that, my friend." she snapped, her lips curled into a hard scowl. "I refuse to watch the human become another victim off our leader's poor judgment against his life. We are becoming a primitive culture again...Just like when our ancestors followed orders from the Old Ones."

She veiled her eyes and decided not to stare at the pain fracturing over Soren's handsome face. He had become trapped into a division of duty and his heart. They had been friends for a long time, and always watched each other's back when he carried his shield past the Gateway with Skyren's sharp eyes watching over them in the shadows. He cared for her, not just as a partner, but also a cherished friend. "Look, I had no right to say those things to you, Shay. I just want you to look out for yourself."

"Thanks for sharing your concern." she said and walked away from the bar. "I know how to handle any attack that is thrown at me."

Soren shook his head. "Stay away from the human, Shayera." he advised with a firm tone. "It may be come your defeat, my friend."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

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As time grew still the encroaching shadows of looming folds of darkness created the effect of a labyrinth; the amber and warm flickers of light reflected on the grime covered walls, faint moans of disturbed silence knells through the devoid of somber darkness that stretchered into the murky pits. Shayera Hol aimlessly walked over the maze of the prison.

The chambers were utterly dimmed with silence at this time. It had grown to become a harrowing sense, churning in his blood, but she ignored the knots of fear and pushed herself forward to the gates, and shot a hard glare of emerald at the two guards mounted at the posts. It felt ridiculous entering the prison again; and it was dangerous to her rank and respect for her commander that she was going to visit the human captive and disobey her direct orders.

"I wish to have a few words with the human prisoner." she affirmed in a stern voice, and kept her eyes leveled with the armored guard to her right. "I have received clearance to enter by orders of Commander Hro Talak." She felt the muscles of her jaw clenching, and waited as the gates opened. She gave the sentinels a regal nod before she advanced into the lit area of the corridor.

The deafening screams of other captives echoed and jostled her bones as she moved closer to the cell with fervent and cautious steps. She kept both of her eyes locked on every cervices, and thumped her boots with hushed movements until she reached the metal bars of the cell. She didn't want to acknowledge the flooding anticipation consuming her veins of her disobedience, but it was unnerving not too, especially when she had challenged everything that was branded on her ivory skin through rages of battle.

Slowly, she advanced closer to the cell, the depth of her grayish-emerald eyes fixed on the shadows, and she rested her hand absently on her mace, prepared to engage if any hostility emerged from the human captive. She wanted to make the visit short, but she also wanted to learn more about Thomas Wayne; his dangerous and elusive allure intrigued her, and become invasive over the control of her thoughts. Sucking in a sharp intake of breath, she stood in front of the bars, keeping her distance from the harden stare of molten hazel burrowing in her skull.

"Why do you not fight for your freedom?'" she asked, lowly, and listened to the resound of faint moaning behind her. Bruce refused to answer. She sensed his stubbornness and defiance. "Death is upon you human, and yet you do not challenge it?" she gritted, shifting her footing a step forward, until the shadows of the bars veiled over her masked face. "Do you carry honor or is there something else you're holding back?"

Bruce kept his unnerving, intense hazel embers locked on to her, "Why do you wear a mask?" he questioned, studying her guarded expression, he was on the knife edge with the young soldier. Shayera withdrew a step back, pressing her full lips into a firm line. He lightly smirked, "Are you holding something back?" he challenged, allowing his raspy words to linger in the air.

Shayera flexed her jaw; her blood was running lucid in her veins. She regained her stern composure, feeling the resentment of her darkened and scarred past surge in her heart. Shifting her eyes around the caliginous prison, she stiffened her lips, and released a deep sigh, "I hold nothing back, human. I am a soldier, battle hardened to the raw bones of my body. My mask is a symbol of freedom of my people that I wield with my mace when the fog of war invades my world."

"Your world is always under attack?" he spoke in a sparse of a whisper, his eyes piercing and unrelenting daggers darkness the sables of darkness shrouding over his sculpted form. Shayera folded her arms over the armored plates of her breasts, keeping her stance frozen under his stare.

Anger started to swell within her as her jaw tightened, "My people salvage freedom. We have withstood horrors, extermination and captivity. This world is not a paradise of the stars, but a devoid of a battlefield that has rebuilt itself from the ashes of those who have sacrificed their lives to end the bloodshed." she swallowed, and allowed a breath to settled against her lungs before adding, "Yes, we are always under attack. Good soldiers die from the missions they carried out to keep the balance of peace contained outside the borders of our world."

Bruce gave her an understanding nod, but his expression grew somber, "I come from a place that isn't different from this world. Good men die to preserve justice on the streets. The is always a war happening in the shadows, evil always finds a way to break the chains that protect the innocent and bring the dark cloud of fear of the city." Shayera narrowed her eyes at him, listening to the words ghost over his arched lips. "I'm a different kind of soldier, fighting my own war, and saving lives through sacrifice to have victory."

"I saw your armor, usual for a human to war in battle, the symbol is something with wings?" she asked, her voice uneven, but her eyes changeless under the glimmers of light. "Is the armor your weapon that you ware when in conflict with your enemies?" she implied.

Bruce pursed his lips, and kept his daunting stare latched onto her, and drew out a shallow breath, "My armor is a symbol of hope against the darkness. The insignia on my chest plate is a bat. I'm a creature that evokes dread and strikes fear into the hearts of diseased minds in my city."

Shayera cocked her chin up, "So you are a soldier who dresses up as a bat?"

"Something like that, Shayera," Bruce replied, giving her a frail hint of a smirk.

Droning noises of the guards lulled Shayera abruptly to turn her head back to the gates, "I must leave. My orders were to disregard myself from this place.' she paused, looking at him, staring into the stormy hazel and the beads of feverish sweat rolling over his chiseled and commanding features. "I will find a way to give your freedom back. I know you are honorable and I respect that in a soldier, Thomas."

Bruce lowered his head, "My name is Bruce Wayne," he whispered, easing the truth out of his perched throat. "Thomas was the name of my late father. I use his name often when I want to keep my identity a secret. I don't know trust you enough to consider you an ally."

She curled the edges of her lips into a smirk, "Wise choice to prevent yourself from being compromised when under enemy lines, Bruce Wayne." she said, looming in front of the cell momentarily, observing him, before asking one last question, "What name do you call yourself when in battle?"

"I have many names, Shayera," Bruce echoed in return, his thinned lips held a darkened smirk, and his eyes burned with intense flames as shadows cloaked over his serrated cheekbones, his voice grew a obscured and haunting "The name that I carry when entering the darkness of my ruined city is...Batman."

Shayera felt an icy shiver trail along her spine when his husky voice reached her ears. She didn't say a word.

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_A/N : I'm so sorry it took forever to update this for you guys. The truth is, I had lost my notes, and a found a small piece. I have to rewrite some of the chapters. I haven't lost interest in this story. Thank you for reading this, it means a lot. More exciting chapters will be coming soon._


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